The senior soldier stepped forward. ‘Shall we strip them for you, sir?’ he asked Marcellus.
‘The decision is theirs. If they wish to live they must find one of my men to claim their naked flesh, in two minutes’ time.’
Two minutes. Tesra felt the clamping in her heart and between her legs. These sheltered servants of a haughty, spoiled princess had the span of just a hundred and twenty seconds to successfully offer themselves up as pleasure slaves to the horny, bloodthirsty crew.
‘Come on, girls,’ called one, a bit bolder than her sister servants, ‘you heard him. What choice do we have? Do you want to die? I for one would willingly spread my legs and suck in order to live!’
She was a redhead, like Kasandra, only lusher with fuller breasts. ‘Does anyone want these?’ She cupped them blatantly. ‘Or this?’
This was the space between her nether lips held clinically, desperately apart.
‘I don’t know, whore,’ called a gravelly voice from somewhere in the crowd. ‘But I’d be happy to take a free sample.’
There was laughter from among the men. The girl shivered, knowing she was being exploited, but having no choice she went to him. After giving a good grope and thrusting his hand hard between her thighs, he pushed her away. ‘Not hot enough,’ he said.
Immediately she accepted an offer from another to have him try out the feel of her arse under his spanking hand. Meanwhile, a luscious blonde had stepped out of her dress and undergarments and was heeding calls from the crowd to dance for them.
‘Are you wet, slut?’ called a man.
She touched herself, her eyes flitting shut as she writhed before the boatload of lusty brigands. ‘Yes,’ she announced, to her shame, ‘I am.’
‘Hurry girls, encouraged a brunette to the last two, shaking herself free of the cumbersome clothes. She was a hot one, with a fine body clearly built for a man’s discipline and heavy usage. Immediately two of the drunker sailors began to fight over her protruding breasts and bottom.
The remaining pair panicked as the pirate king announced that there was just one minute left for them to prostitute themselves or face the fate of the other Talassians. ‘Please,’ wailed one, tripping over her half torn robes, falling flat on her face, ‘take me, someone.’ She had lovely raven curls, though as she crawled about on the dirty deck it was clear they would not remain pristine for long.
The last one, a stocky girl with large aureoles and thick pussy lips practically threw herself at the men, landing in the arms of the mute pirate, who seemed content with his bounty, throwing her bodily over his shoulder.
Meanwhile the redhead and the blonde were being made to take turns on their knees at the cock of one crafty fellow who told them he needed more evidence to ‘make up his mind’.
‘Time,’ called Marcellus as the redhead was taking her turn.
The blonde cried out in panic but a nearby brigand took pity, dragging her by the hair to his feet, where she fell to kissing and licking them ardently.
‘Thank you, master,’ panted she, again and again, the nature of her new status having been made more than clear to her already.
‘Thank you, master,’ murmured the other girls in turn, appreciative of the men who had saved their lives.
The only one not speaking was the stunning brunette, she who had been born for the collar, more so than any of the others. Her mouth, as it turned out was occupied, as was her cunt, the two drunken sailors having devised a unique compromise to share her charms. The girl moaned softly, eyes closed, her body well exposed and on its way to full exploitation as she knelt for them on hands and knees. It was a position she would grow accustomed to, along with dozens of others appropriate for that unique brand of animal known as the female slave.
‘Fetch the branding iron,’ called Marcellus, satisfied with the new crop of slaves.
‘Disgusting,’ sniffed Ameliadora haughtily. ‘You are sluts,’ she pronounced. ‘All of you; worthless sluts.’
‘Indeed?’ The pirate king raised his brow. ‘And suppose I were to give you the same option?’
The princess turned pale beneath her fine hairdo, the make-up a sudden contrast to the ghastly white. ‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she said, though there was a good deal less starch in her voice than in the beginning.
‘Or,’ he proposed alternatively, ‘I could give you that same amount of time to please your own soldiers with your naked charms such that one of them will claim you.’
Ameliadora backed away from her guards, seeing them no longer as her servants, beholden to her father, but as men, larger and stronger than her who might, at any time, take from her what they wished.
‘You have no idea of the ransom I would bring,’ said the princess to her captor, her demeanor indicative now of real fear. ‘My father would carve you half the empire for my safe return, or the weight of your ship in gold.’
‘For daughter number fourteen? I think not.’ He shook his head. ‘Not even for daughter number one. It is well known that among your people a captured female is considered already forfeit to slavery. Should you return, even now, your own father would have you stripped, branded and raped.’
‘I have the blood of the House of my fathers. I am sacred to my people. There is a temple to me on the Isle of Ciros. Did you know that?’
‘No,’ Marcellus smiled, ‘I did not. Perhaps now it shall be a temple for slaves.’
Ameliadora, proud and regal, fell to her knees. ‘Please, sir, do not do this to me. I am not like them. I am different. I do not deserve this.’
‘Different?’ he repeated, clearly toying with her. ‘And how exactly do you mean that, noble princess?’
‘I am not a slut,’ she said eagerly, seeing her opportunity to escape at her servants’ expense. ‘They are little bitches; that’s why they were my virtual slaves. See how disgusting they are now? Like animals?’
Tesra could hardly miss the rutting as the handmaidens and their new masters, as starved for love as many of the pirates themselves, fell into one another, expressing their primal carnal natures. Male and female, dominator and dominated. Interestingly, Bothar had managed to discover the new redhead and was at present mounting her from behind, his teeth dug firmly into her neck. The girl was spasming, in helpless orgasm as he rode her to his bliss. Soon enough this new girl would wear the collar and bark for him and eat from a dish at his feet. And the others at the feet of other masters; the little dancing blonde, the raven-haired girl and the brunette, taking on one and all.
‘And you are not like that?’ asked Marcellus.
‘No, not at all.’ Ameliadora shook her head vigorously. ‘On the blood of my people, I swear it.’
‘You would not be averse then to a small test?’
‘A test?’ She hesitated. ‘Of what kind?’
‘To see if you are a lady,’ he replied. ‘Or only another slut.’
‘I know of no such test,’ said the princess warily.
‘I do.’ He held up his index finger. ‘Resist this, overcome it and you shall have your freedom.’
Ameliadora, fourteenth daughter of the emperor, the most powerful man in the whole of the world, regarded her captor, her lovely brow creased. ‘That one finger?’ she clarified. ‘That is all you offer to challenge my resolve? My womanly purity?’
Tesra cringed, knowing full well what could be done with this single digit applied to the right, or wrong place.
‘I am a simple man,’ he shrugged. ‘A mere brigand. Perhaps not right in the head.’
The princess was on her feet, having fallen completely for his trap. ‘Let us get this over with; I wish to be on my way before sunset. You will, of course, provide me armed escort to the nearest outpost of Talassia?’
‘It will be my pleasure,’ he bowed with deceptive gentility, ushering her towards his cabin, ‘highness
.’
Tesra watched them descend the stairs, her heart sick with jealousy, her loins thick with need. In a fit of desperation she begged a sailor for his touch. He cuffed her harshly, annoyed at being distracted from his pursuit of another girl, the blonde handmaiden, the lithe slut with the yellow curls whose steamy dancing was driving half the crew to distraction.
‘What’s the matter?’ Vorra towered over her, the comely wench herself having been thrown over in favor of the newcomers. ‘Is special little Tesra not feeling so special anymore? Welcome to our world, bitch.’
Tesra wept at the girl’s feet, wetting them with tears. She wanted Marcellus. She wanted to go home. She wanted to wake up and find it was all a dream, that she had in reality taken her swim unmolested that morning and crawled back out of the pool and laid on the rocks for a sound sleep, like a lizard baking in the sun.
What visions she would have to tell her compatriots, then, and the mother seers, too. Visions of the men-creatures and the beasts they keep for food as well as their pets.
And she would tell them about the slave girls, and they would laugh, because no such thing could be possible in reality, that men-beasts could own females and chain them and drive them like dogs, even marking their skins with red-hot irons.
‘You there, Vorra,’ shouted Montrego. ‘Bring Yellow Pelt over here to the iron.’
‘With pleasure.’ The larger girl collected a wad of her hair for leverage.
Tesra was dragged this way across the deck, her flesh scraping the wood, her pride shattered. ‘No, please,’ she was crying. ‘Don’t bring me any closer. I don’t want to see anymore. Don’t show me the brandings! I cannot bear it!’
Montrego put her to her knees, pulling her wrists tightly behind her back. ‘Who said anything about watching, cunt? You’re participating. That’s right, my little flower, you’re getting branded along with the rest of them. Captain’s orders.’
Her heart gripped with fear. It couldn’t be true.
‘And you’ll go last.’ He pushed her to the back of the line. ‘Just to build the suspense for you.’
Tesra swooned at the sight of the glowing hot metal, fixed with the insignia of the pirate code as it kissed the skin of the first victim, the brunette, perfect in body and submissive soul, her body in repose over the branding barrel. Crackling and hissing the metal ate its way into her soft, defenseless bottom cheek, marking it, and her forever. The girl’s moans and screams rose high into the air, mingling with the cry of the wind and the sound of shining sunbeams.
Tesra passed out.
But Montrego did not allow her to stay this way. Dousing her with briny, ice-cold seawater, he restored her to a state of enlivened terror. ‘The king says you watch it all, cunt.’
Meanwhile a slash of the broad whip brought the moaning, thrashing brunette to her senses. ‘Get up, slave, and make room for another.’
Painfully the new slave crawled, her splendid figure and natural sensuality now completely owned by the king and his minions, and she was already being fitted for the iron collar as the blonde was put into place over the branding barrel.
‘Isn’t there any other way?’ she was bargaining. ‘I’ll have sex with whoever you tell me to - in any position.’
‘You’ll do that anyway, cunt.’ Montrego lashed her limbs into place. ‘And this little mark is our insurance.’
‘But how,’ she wanted to know, ‘will I ever find a husband now?’
‘I wouldn’t concern myself with that.’ Montrego pressed the branding iron expertly into place. ‘It’s masters you’ll be having now.’
The blonde’s skin hissed under the merciless heat. Just four more girls and then Tesra. And after that, the collar and more degradation. Already the brunette was being had again, while a second pirate was yanking hard on a chain attached to her collar, insuring the maximum depth of his penis in her rectum.
Other men were there, too, drawn like a moth to a flame. One was masturbating over her buttocks, readying himself to spill onto the fresh wound. A second was taking aim at her back, where she’d been whipped.
‘Persistrata,’ Tesra announced skyward, ‘take me now. Bring me to the world beyond death, only spare me this ultimate degradation.’
‘Pray to this,’ said a pirate, offering his thick member. ‘This is the only god a slave need ever know.’
Tesra gulped his seed in a few thrusts, her eyes still glued to the terrible procession. The branding completed, the blonde was now crawling to her collar and ravishment while the redhead was being fitted for arse marking.
Opening her mind, Tesra sought to reach Marcellus, but she sensed nothing. Even the thoughts of these others seemed silent to her now. I am dead, she thought, dead to my powers, dead to my people and dead to my pride.
‘Not bad.’ He tousled her hair, wiping his dick against her cheek.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, hating herself for her servility, ‘sir.’
‘Next,’ called Montrego, as yet another slave came forward - one fewer now between Tesra’s quivering skin and the sizzling hot iron.
Chapter 7
‘I assume,’ Ameliadora watched him bolt the door to his cabin, ‘that you will touch me intimately.’
Marcellus took his time, allowing the anticipation to build. ‘You are not as naïve as I thought, princess. Can it be you have had experience with matters of the loins?’
‘You mean heart,’ she corrected. ‘In court all affairs twixt male and female are referred to as based in the heart.’
‘Indeed,’ he brushed her cheek, employing but the one finger. ‘We shall reach there soon enough. Tell me, Ameliadora, have you ever been with a man?’
‘No, though there are many who have desired to do so.’
‘And you discouraged them?’
‘I toyed with them, amusing myself at their expense.’
The finger was at her chin, and pushing he arched her neck. ‘You would look well in a collar, Ameliadora.’
‘And you would look well hanging from a gallows.’
‘You are a cold one,’ he mused. ‘Ivory-white on the outside, but beneath... I wonder.’
‘Wonder all you like, you shall never find out,’ she challenged.
‘Remove the covering from your head,’ he told her, ‘and release your hair.’
‘That was not part of the bargain.’
‘I have the right to touch you, where and how I wish. Are you afraid that I will seduce you so easily?’
‘I fear nothing,’ flashed the eyes of the emperor’s daughter, ‘and no man.’ Haughtily, she undid her elaborate covering, finally allowing long tresses of midnight black to pour down her back. ‘There,’ said she to him, ‘you have what you wish. Can you handle it?’
‘You are proud of your hair, I gather.’
She shook out the radiant curls. ‘I have one handmaiden whose sole job it is to comb it, for two hours at a time, ten thousand strokes. She must count them and if she misses I beat her with the hairbrush on her bare bottom.’
Marcellus ran his finger over her lips. ‘Your handmaids serve a different purpose now.’
Her cheeks reddened, but she did not retreat from his teasing. ‘Bring that finger closer and I shall bite it.’
‘Animals bite,’ observed the pirate king, ‘not ladies.’
Ameliadora, having been bested yet again, moved to slap him, but Marcellus grabbed her wrist. ‘I am not the animal,’ she fought to free herself, ‘you are.’
He let her go. ‘Disrobe, princess. The time for female chatter is done.’
‘No one sees naked the daughter of the emperor.’
‘Not even the men you like to tease?’
‘When I have proved my virtue to you,’ she restrained herself from trying to slap him again, ‘you will be very sorry.’
‘As you will be yourself if you do not remove your clothing.’
‘I do so,’ she informed him, working at the fastenings behind her back, ‘under duress.’
‘Duly noted.’
It took some time to remove all the layers of her elaborate garments, but at last she stood before him, just as the gods had formed her. Truly the princess was beautiful by any standard. If the other thirteen daughters of the emperor were this attractive, he was indeed a wealthy man. How much better she looked now, though, her porcelain-white skin, smooth and bare and vulnerable, her long mane of hair hanging suggestively nearly to her waist.
‘You desire me,’ Ameliadora said, her smugness more than a little obvious. ‘Just as the others do. I am the most beautiful girl at court. Every male wants me, from the stable hands to my father’s own councilors and dukes.’
‘You are a pretty enough girl,’ he acknowledged. ‘Then again, so are most of the females chained in my hold. A nice pair of tits and a round arse is less special than you think. I suspect it is your father’s money and power that makes you so popular at court.’
‘Arrogant pig! Lying thieving pirate! I will see you rot in my father’s dungeon, I will - ’
Ameliadora, the pretty, conceited little wench went at him with her tiny fists and once again met overwhelming male resistance, and with the king’s hand in her hair, holding her fast, she was completely stymied.
‘Now it is time,’ he told her, ‘for the test.’
Ameliadora’s eyes conveyed volumes. She seemed not at all certain of the finger as it approached her bowed body, intimately surveying the possibilities for contact - and maybe, too, for abuse.
‘Kiss it,’ he pushed the finger to her lips. Ameliadora closed her eyes, trembling, but did so, and a moment later she gasped as he touched her nipple. ‘Do you play with yourself, princess?’
‘No, never.’
He flicked it. ‘Is that the truth?’
‘Ow,’ she wailed. ‘All right, it’s true, I play with myself.’
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